The Survivor
by Insomniac444
Summary: Imperial Pilot Wilde is a survivor of Endor on a personal mission to destroy the Rebellion and all it stands for. The only two things stopping him is his personal connection to an Engineer and his nemesis, New Republic Wing Commander Zeffo


Captain Wilde stood at attention in front of his Squadron Leader. TIE/LN fighters hung in their racks on either side, followed by Bombers and TIE Interceptors, or TIE/INs. A single small corvette stood among the shuttles to ferry the stormtroopers onto Endor's surface, should the need arise. The hangar was cool this morning, uninterrupted by the usual drilling troopers, seeing as they were all in briefing rooms awaiting instruction.

"The mission we have is simple. There were rumors of a small Rebellion resupply caravan en route to Endor. Interdictors have been placed along the lines, and we are to react as soon as there's a hit. That means TIEs are scrambled and ready for action against the enemy. Our mission specifically is to accompany this shuttle full of troopers and ordnance onto the flagship and disable it, taking any Commanders prisoner for interrogation. Once the fleet is broken above Endor, the Rebellion's secret base location, given to us by the Commander, will be next. We cannot fail. FOR THE EMPIRE!"

"For the Empire," the crew cheered, free hands clenched into a fist and raised. They were dismissed to their flight room after that, ready for combat and flight. Wilde wasn't new by any stretch of the imagination, he had three fighter kills under his belt and two kill assists. For now, the squad sat in the ready room and chatted.

"It's time for the Squadron betting, boys. Place your wager on the enemy fighter compliment and the friendly squadron that'll get the most kills," another senior fighter called. Everyone got up and dumped about thirty credits each into their votes and returned to chatting.

"What's it like up there, Wilde? Like, in a real-life combat situation," a newbie asked him.

"It's like the training sims you run, but you can actually die. Just keep a level head and no Rebel stands a chance," he replied. The talk fell silent as they felt the jerk of a ship in hyperspace, then burst into action when the klaxons began to blare. Running up stairs and along catwalks, Wilde found his TIE and slid into it, attaching his helmet and running through the startup sequences.

After he warmed up the engines and read the diagnostics, he flicked on the radio inside his TIE. It wasn't anything new on the chatter, just pre-battle checks. Pilots and troopers were running around the hangar floor like little ants to their holes, amusing Wilde as it always did. The stormtroopers, in all their organization, still ran about like mad rats.

"Attention Pilots, this is Control. Prep for launch in thirty seconds," a pleasant female voice ordered. Activating the standby for repulsorlifts, he tapped on the controls to a song in his head. The countdown hit zero and the Star Destroyer dropped from hyperspace, the launch lights flicking to green. Lifting off the rack, Wilde's TIE shot out with the rest of his squadron. The Interdictor and three Tartan Patrol crafts were engaged with a Rebel Marauder Cruiser and three squadrons of X-Wings, but they weren't the real targets. Behind the battle was a group of retreating Nebulon-B frigates, probably transferred to medical or transport duties.

"We have three medical frigates. They are to be disabled, not destroyed. The supply frigates are another story," Squadron leader called in as a group of X-wings broke from the Tartans to engage them.

"Contact! Aggressive maneuvers, swarm them," Wilde said sharply. Banking in every direction, the TIEs mostly escaped the onslaught of the squadron, taking as few as three casualties. The fighters then turned and came up all around the X-wings. Wilde had his shot from the rear, firing a salvo into the rear of the snub fighter. It exploded from the center outward, wings shooting in all directions. The traitor pilot never stood a chance of surviving, none of them did. Three more of the enemy craft went up in explosions before the TIEs all shot out of firing positions, leaving the X-wings to react. Dipping downwards, he escaped being targeted, and pulled up just behind another X-wing.

"Watch it Dorn-3, snub on your side," the radio crackled. He growled and banked up, seeing the red laser fire sizzle behind him. He turned around a few seconds later and went down on the fighter who had forgotten him for a new target, a mistake he wouldn't live long enough to regret. With another salvo from his blasters the X-wing was destroyed,

"Just made ace," he muttered to himself as the ship flew through the debris. The squadron had broken off and retreated back to the relative safety of the Marauder Cruiser, leaving Dorn Squadron to do their jobs. Forming back up, they slowed down to allow the recently launched shuttle to catch up.

"Keep a tight formation. Don't allow the shuttle to be destroyed. Instead of a flagship, the mission changed to the two medical frigates," Squadron Leader reported in.

"Understood," each pilot in return said, tightening up their formation around the shuttle, picking up another one needing an escort.

"Be advised, Y-Wings heading towards the Nest," someone said, drawing Wilde's attention to the squadron of Y's heading towards their Star Destroyer at max speed.

"This is Wolf Squadron to Dorn Squadron. We're on it," another voice crackled as they watched a group of TIE/INs shoot past the Y's, destroying three of them right off the bat, forcing them to take evasive actions.

"Dorn 3 and 4, break off and engage that Y-wing nearest to us," Leader called. Wilde and a squadmate broke off now, shooting towards the Y. Banking to either side, they met in the middle and shot past each other, turning in tightly towards the enemy fighter, opening a salvo in near-perfect unison. Their first broadside didn't manage to destroy it, the two shooting to either side, hoping for a repeat.

By now, the enemy had chosen a target, that target being Wilde. One shot hit, slamming him against his harness, but didn't damage the ship badly. He shot down, leaving the slower fighter to play catch-up. Using the opportunity, his squad mate shot a quick burst of blaster fire into the engine, destroying it and sending the enemy into a death spiral.

"Nice work, Dorn-4! Scratch up a kill for you," he said, the two rejoining the squadron.

"Nice work, you two. Keep it tight for a few more seconds, then we break and draw the point-defense cannons to us, if they even have any," Squadron Leader replied. They held for a few more moments before scattering and veering in every direction, drawing any point-defense. Oddly enough, there was none and the shuttles landed unopposed.

"Good enough for me," someone commented.

"Me too. Let's join the fight," Wilde asked.

"We're clear, let's relieve our Tartans," Squadron Leader replied. They shot at max speed towards the battle, Wilde catching a glimpse of the TIE/IN squadron cleaning up the Y-wings, only one getting anywhere close to the Star Destroyer, which took it down with a few turbolaser shots. They ended up forming a tail for the Interceptors, who reached the fight before them. They arrived to a cleaning up, the TIEs taking down any remaining X-wings and A-wings. The Marauder had been destroyed and the Nebulon-B's had either retreated or surrendered. Within a few more seconds, before either squadron could even pick targets, the last ship had been destroyed and a few moments later the medical frigates had been reported taken. The ships all broke off and landed in the hangars, and the pilots gathered in the prep room as soon as they had gotten a little rest.

"Captain Wilde, looks like you made Ace. Nice work," his Squadron Commander said, saluting him. Wilde saluted back and accepted the medal. The rest of the men in the Prep room clapped for awhile as he pinned his medal to his flight suit. When the applause died down, they were permitted to leave and get some shut-eye. Wilde and two others decided to go to the caf first and grab something to eat.

"Well, Captain. How's it feel to be a true blue Fighter Ace," the first, a Captain Carmike, asked.

"Like I killed five traitors, that's how," he joked, the three chuckling as they accepted some caf and pastries before finding seats.

"I made ace about two weeks ago. Easy kills, all of 'em. Never had a long dogfight, just got the drop on some poor bastard," a Commander Sturmm commented, looking indifferent.

"A kill's a kill, Sturmm. Doesn't matter how you got them as long as the Rebels paid for every one," Wilde said with passion. He hated the Rebellion. They had caused Alderaan's destruction, they had prolonged this war, caused suffering to mass amounts of planets that the Empire had to retaliate on. His Empire took the blame for Rebel actions, and it brought him to a boil every time he heard a Rebellion orator on the holonet.

"Fair enough. Over Endor here, the Rebellion's going down," Sturmm exclaimed. All the others agreed heartily. After finishing their food and caf, the three split off, all to their quarters to sleep.

**_Two Days Later_**

Star Destroyers came and went, off to some mission or another. There was a considerable amount gathered around the unfinished Death Star II. Sometimes, Wilde would look out at the progress being made on the superweapon and secretly envy the pilots aboard that ship, the pride they must have felt at being stationed at the harbinger of the Rebellion's doom. He was looking out one day when the ship intercom went off.

"Captain Wilde to the bridge. Repeat, Captain Wilde to the bridge," the pleasant voice said. Sighing, he left the viewport and went to the turbolift, taking him up. The bridge was the same as any, busy men and controlled chaos. Verbal relaying of information and standard procedure. The captain waved him over.

"Captain, you have been reassigned planetside. The base needs another pilot to operate the base's air defense. You're an ace, if I'm not mistaken, and fit for this duty."

"Yes, sir. That's all correct. When will I leave, sir?"

"As soon as you can. A shuttle is prepped, but will be leaving in fifteen minutes, so I'd hurry if I were you, the base Fighter Commander is a legendary hardass," the captain warned.

"Of course, sir. On my way now," he replied, leaving the bridge after saluting. He went to his quarters and quickly shoved all his clothes into a knapsack before queueing a turbolift to the hangar, which took him there a few moments later. A few other pilots were milling around a shuttle that was being loaded, keeping their fair distance until the loader droids finished.

"You guys the pilots going planetside," a pilot asked them as Wilde approached.

"That's us," an older man replied, a greying moustache adorning his face.

"Then load up. Never know when that Rebel Fleet's gonna be here."

"Fair enough," the elder said, the pilots all loading up. As soon as the last one took a seat, the pilot pressed a button and the ramp folded and wound its way into the shuttle. A few moments later, after the pilot entered the cockpit, the ship lifted off the ground and moved forward. A slight shake later and they were out of the artificial gravity of the ship.

"Ship is clear, crew. En route to the forested moon of Endor, ETA five minutes."

"So, you boys all aces? You there, boy," the greyed man said angrily, pointing to Wilde," You look too young to be a pilot. You an ace?"

"Piss off, old man. Yes, I'm an ace, and I can still see out the cockpit without my bifocals," Wilde spat back, sending chuckles through the other pilots.

"Okay, you two. That's enough," their Squadron Leader, assumed his rank card and tone of voice said.

"Kid started it," the old man growled, earning a glare from the Leader.

"Now that you're all acquainted with one another, I'm Wing Commander Dravis, ex-Imperial Spec Ops. I left the Special Operations Division to command fighters and pilots, so you could say I'm a little experienced. You, hotshot, what's your name?"

"Flight Captain Wilde, sir. Just made ace from the last encounter we had," he replied proudly.

"Very good, Captain. You, bifocals, how about you?"

"Flight Captain Nemire, sir. Made ace about fifteen years back, but never got any chance for kills since."

"Excellent records, both of you. Now, you," he said, pointing to another pilot, who introduced himself. The other pilots were introduced, but Wilde stopped paying attention, feeling the rumble that meant they hit atmosphere distracting him.

"Thirty seconds until we hit base," the intercom crackled. The pilots all took seats and strapped up, the shuttle changing directions and going downwards now. The shuttle touched down a few moments later, and the ramp opened. Exiting, Wilde got his first breath of fresh air, hit of sunlight and saw the base in full action. They formed into a square until they got orders, and all looked around as best as they could. The base itself was alive, pilots and officers milling about, checking that everything was in good condition, mechanics stripping TIEs to repair them and stormtroopers patrolling. The garrison was in full swing, and it was impressive.

"You came at a good time, pilots. They're getting ready to take the AT-ATs out," Commander Dravis said to them, pointing in the direction of two AT-ATs. They could be heard over the noise of the base, and their iconic sounds struck pride into every Imperial heart.

"Commander Dravis, pilots! You have your quarters, get moving. Looky-loos aren't tolerated on my base! You're soldiers, so act like it! Damn slackers, move," an old man shouted, grabbing the attention and ire of the pilots. However, he was the base Commander, so they moved. Taking a turbolift down a few stories, they emerged onto a floor where the barracks were kept. Pilots were already there, playing Sabacc, holochess or just drinking at a bar while some non-regulation music played in the background. Essentially, this was every large pilot barrack in the Empire.

"Hey guys! Find a bunk and pour a drink," someone said, Dravis stepping aside. They all scattered now, moving to the sabacc table, bar, bedrooms or any other oddity they found interesting. Wilde threw his knapsack onto an empty rack, then accepted a drink from another pilot, relaxing.

"Orientation to the base for you guys is tomorrow. I'll tell you this first though. There's no flight patrols, no training drills, nothing outside of flying when they need us," his drinking buddy said.

"Thank the stars. We just get to sit back until the Rebels are stupid enough to attack."

"Exactly! We have it made out here," the other said, poking him in the chest. After a few hours and two drinks, he left the barracks and went topside to get some air. A few Army officers were in a circle discussing something and a technician seemed to be working on a TIE, so he went over to the technician.

"Need any help?"

"Yeah, actually. If you could hand me that hydrospanner to the left, you'd be my hero," a female voice replied, throwing him off-guard a moment before doing as asked, placing the piece into her hand.

"That it?"

"Sure is. Thanks. I assume you're a pilot?"

"Yeah, how'd you know?"

She laughed. "It's in your voice. You pilots all sound the same. Sure of yourselves and confident. Like Navy officers without a Star Destroyer sized chip on your shoulder."

Now it was his turn to laugh, drawing a few sideways glances from the others. "We like to think of ourselves as apart from the Navy. Makes life easier."

"Fair enough. Here, take this back," she said, handing him the hydrospanner that he replaced," Thanks. Now, I never caught your name."

"It's Captain Wilde," he said, holding the cart steady as she slid off it and landed on her feet, replacing the covering on the TIE.

"Oh, should I salute or something?"

"Don't worry about it. What's yours?"

"Corporal Morrigan. I'm in the Imperial Army as a technician. What TIEs yours," she asked, cleaning up her station.

"Oh, I'm not sure. Haven't been assigned one yet."

"Well, Wilde, I hope I'm your tech," she said nicely, beginning to pick up the stool. He wrapped a few tools in the synth-holder before replying.

"Looks like you keep her to a good condition, Morrigan. It'd be nice to have you," he said finally, handing her her tools. She put them in their spot, then began carting away.

"Good to meet you!"

"You too," he answered quickly as she went towards a service lift. Turning back to the TIE, he looked it over. It was in pristine condition, a sign of good and dedicated maintenance. Now, he walked aimlessly along the flight deck, where shuttles would touch down and lift off, loading and unloading supplies to the base. They were far up in the forest, the tops of the AT-AT's barely breaking the scenery, their heads just under the lip. TIEs were all lined across the base itself, either under repairs or waiting for a pilot. Officers and enlisted alike worked in a controlled and fluid chaos like a militaristic orchestra. Other pilots were wandering or helping with jobs, their black flightsuits distinguishing them from the rest.

"All personnel report to battlestations," the PA system announced, repeating the order a few times. Wilde didn't need the repeats, he was already sprinting to the nearest TIE/LN. It happened to be the one he just was at, and ran through the sequences, grabbing the spare armor that was there and putting it on in the famed thirty-six seconds.

"This is Captain Wilde to Fighter Command requesting orders and instruction."

"This is Fighter Command to Echelon-1. You are to join the other pilots launching until you're wing has been fully launched. Act as point-defense for the base and don't allow any Rebel craft onto the surface."

"Understood, Command," he replied, joining the other TIEs flying patrol. His prox sensor went off, letting him know craft were nearby.

"Attention temp wing, enemy U-wings incoming, likely X-wing escorted. Engage at will," another pilot ordered over the radio. Banking up, Wilde felt himself pressed against his seat as he unleashed a volley at the oncoming U-Wing before turning to avoid the enemy's fire. Turning around, he pelted the rear of the ship with bolts while the side gunner tried to shoot at his base.

A few seconds of pelting and the left wing broke off, sending the ship into a death spiral, taking an entire attack squad to the grave with it. Smiling, he eased the TIE up and shot over the base triumphantly, turning around after he had made some distance to fire upon a U-wing trying to land.

"Attention Command, there's going to be light damage to the landing deck," he reported as his shots went inside the carrier-fighter and ruptured the hull internally, spilling the ship in two onto the deck, blowing it up. Survivors were quickly cut down by E-Webs set up there.

He drifted upwards and scanned the sky for his next target. It was lucky that the U-Wings were the only current enemy for him to adjust his in-atmosphere flying with. TIEs handled very differently when they weren't in orbit or the vacuum of space. Wilde caught a slight glance of an X-wing escort dipping beneath him and banked to intercept. He got off a few shots into its rear, disabling its shields for his next opportunity. He missed, however, the other X-wing dipped behind him and made a lock. With the screech of metal and a ripping sound, one entire panel of the TIE was gone, sending him into a spiral. It took him a moment to stabilise, then he pulled the ejection lever, shooting him from the cockpit and activating his parachute.

Inside his survival pouch was a week's rations, an E-11 blaster with three spare power packs and some basic survival items for long-term. The seat landed nearly five minutes later, spurring Wilde into action. Grabbing up the pack, he took a survey of the surrounding forest. It was too thick to see the base, and he wasn't sure how far away it was. Luckily, he wasn't hurt and didn't have to use any of his medkit. He guessed he had made distance from the base due to the lack of dogfighting above him. The only comfort was the Death Star II, hanging in orbit like a loving parent looks into a cradle. He had to move, he knew that, but he didn't know to where. Picking up his commlink he dialed in.

"This is Captain Wilde to Imperial Command. Repeat, Wilde to Imperial Command. Come in," he said. After no reply, he repeated the message a few more times before putting the commlink into his pack. Picking a sturdy tree, he climbed up it. He made it halfway until his armor was struck by something hard, right into his back. Cursing, he dropped to a branch and drew his blaster. Standing on a little walkway were some small, fuzzy creatures. One drew a spear and threw, missing him by millimeters.

He glared at them before squeezing off a burst of five shots, dropping the two from their little catwalk before continuing. He reached the top of the tree fairly easily, not even breaking a sweat, and took a look around. He saw the base now, alive with firefighting and combat, lasers able to be seen, even from this distance, about fifty kilometers away. U-Wings shot past him, nearly knocking him from his posting before touching down in the distance behind him.

"Command, this is Wilde, please respond. Repeat, this is Wilde," he said urgently into the comms again. When there was no reply, he carefully climbed down and took cover on a branch where he could fire into the pseudo path below him. About twenty minutes had passed when he heard voices. However, upon seeing the owners he was less than pleased with the outcome. Two full squads of Rebels were marching with the fuzz balls he had killed earlier. They stopped and the two aliens ran to their killed comrades.

"There's not supposed to be casualties this far out, especially not our guides," a human voice commented, one of the Rebels.

"Maybe the pilot of that crashed TIE," someone else suggested. They looked around the treeline, scaring Wilde half to death.

"Maybe. Split up, men," another person said, a man in a tan uniform, a Rebel Officer. They broke formation and began to search. He crouched lower, hoping the tree would disguise him. However, if they caught him from below, he'd be dead before he could respond. Taking inventory, he was disappointed to notice he didn't have any thermals detonators. They searched the area for more than an hour before giving up and forming back up.

"Anyone hear that," one asked. They all stopped walking and turned their ears. Wilde prepared himself. He had been caught. This was it for him, there was no savior, this was his time. In the middle of preparation, he heard it too. The familiar sound of an AT-ST clumbering along, the mechanical sounds emanating from its hydraulics sounded like sweet symphony to Wilde.

"Break! Find cover and get ready to engage," the officer shouted, the rebels all scattering behind trees or into cover. A rope was thrown across, then extended. When he saw the AT-ST, Wilde acted. Aiming at one end of the rope, he fired a burst again, killing the rebel holding the tripline taunt. It fell quickly, and the AT-ST freely passed in between.

"Rebel Soldiers," he screamed to the patrol, who looked closely now, and shot towards the rebel soldiers.

"This is AT-ST 217 to downed Imperial Pilot. Repeat, this is AT-ST 217 to downed TIE pilot. Do you copy," his commlink barked. Smiling, Wilde dropped six feet onto the walker's roof.

"This is Captain Wilde, downed TIE pilot. You've already picked me up. Release the hatch, please," he replied into his comm.

"No can do, pilot. We need your help in the engagement," the reply came. Shrugging to himself, Wilde aimed as best as he could atop the walker and shot down at Rebel positions. When it came to a stop to fire, he slid off the side onto a small platform. The rebel patrol was getting beat badly, but the Imperials had taken a few casualties, the stark white troopers being a massive target in the forest. He aimed down at a heavier man weilding a repeater and opened up, dropping him quickly. The troopers let out a cheer as he went down, spelling defeat for the enemy. They began to pull back towards their U-wings now, covering each other's retreats. The AT-ST, however, had a better idea. Firing a few shots into a tree, it began to collapse. Unfortunately, that tree was Wilde's. Feeling himself fall, he grabbed at another branch, but was unable to hold for long, falling about twenty feet down. The impact was hard, and he broke a leg on the way down, but the Rebels ignored him, focusing on their own survival over a kill. One leapt on top of the trunk only to be cut down.

A few managed to escape, but the patrol focused on him and their casualties, allowing Wilde to slip into unconsciousness.

He woke up to a familiar feeling, like perpetual motion and stillness at the same time. Shaking off his sleep, he noticed he was in a medbay cot, IV in his arm and out of his armor. A medic was there, and quickly checked him over.

"How are you feeling," she asked kindly, moving his pillow for comfort.

"Like I fell from a kriffing tree, that's how," he replied, feeling the leg and back pain all over again.

"Understandable. You took quite the fall on Endor. Shame we ended up losing the planet," she said grimly.

"What?! We lost Endor?!"

"Unfortunately, yes. The Jedi Luke Skywalker assassinated the Emperor and a kamikaze A-wing pilot had rammed into the _Executor_. The fleet ran, and we're en route to Byss to reconvene now with an Imperial Moff."

"What about the base? The planetside soldiers? Did anyone make it out?"

"A very few. Mostly troopers out on patrol or engineers down in the base itself," she replied solemnly, placing a hand on his shoulder as he felt the tears stream from his face. They were a mixture between anger and sadness. His Emperor, Lord Vader, Admiral Piett, all of them dead. The Empire would be splintered, the Rebels won. His life, his duty failed.

"Let's try to walk, take your mind off it. Let's go. Up, up, up," she said, helping him from his bed. He grabbed the IV machine as she unhooked him from most other machines.

"Another dip in the bacta and you'll be over the weakness," she said to him, leading towards the tank. There were wounded everywhere. Troopers with missing arms, legs and some just lying there asleep with blood-soaked bandages. However, there was nothing to be done for some. Part of their heads were missing, their blood was pooling in the cot, turning the bed into a squishy red mess, things like that. Arriving, he was knocked out again before being dipped into the bacta.

Waking back up, he noticed the ship was considerably slower. A new and very blurry figure stood outside the tank with the familiar outline of an Imperial Nurse. The bacta drained slowly, revealing them slowly, building Wilde's anticipation. He wondered who bothered to visit him. He had no more family for they were killed by the Rebel attack on Dantooine, and no lover since Academy. To his pleasant surprise, his only acquaintance from Endor was standing there, the young technician woman. She looked rough, like she needed to go through a bacta tank, which he assumed was why she was here. Nonetheless, it was a welcome surprise from the normal group of sad-looking troopers and dead men lying along bloodsoaked beds. Upon seeing him, she smiled widely.

"It's great to see another survivor in as good of condition as you," she exclaimed as he was released from the tank onto shaky feet, nearly naked with the tight shorts used for bacta tanks.

"Trust me, I may look good, but I feel like I got hit with a walker. You look like you went through the Rebel grinder too."

"Yeah. Our barracks got hit bad. Troopers were defending anything they could, and we picked up blasters to help. Wasn't enough, and an explosion threw me from two stories up. Were you shot down? Sorry, that was a sudden change," she said, laughing a little. That was a big change from the usual sounds of the medbay.

"It's quite fine. I was, got caught in a pincer movement from two X-wings. One I was chasing and the other dropped behind me."

"Damn. Those kriffers needed two X-Wings to take down a real Imperial," she joked, punching him lightly on the arm. He chuckled and shrugged.

"Madam, I'm afraid I'm going to have to split you two up for your bacta treatment. Captain, you are released on probationary terms. The med-droid will give you a datacard. Please report to a terminal for further orders from the captain," the nurse butted in.

"Very well. It's good to see you. What was your name again," she asked.

"Wilde. It was good to see you again too… Morrigan?"

"That's it! Now, go get your orders, captain, sir," she joked, mock saluting him before taking some anesthetics. He chuckled as he found the medical droid tending to some other fellow who needed bandages changed. A small flower pot with a trooper helmet on it sat beside him, letting Wilde know what this man was. No words were exchanged as the droid handed Wilde his card with a free arm, who then left. The terminal was close by, and the orders were simple. Do some flight simulations when he could, rest up, and report back to the medbay in two weeks to be cleared. Once on Byss, he had unlimited shore leave. Smiling, Wilde placed the data card in the disposal bin for them and left for the pilot barracks.

The ship seemed like either a training ship or a medical destroyer, both of which didn't exist. Men and women much younger than he were working the ship, filing reports, and marching around with lieutenant pins. He was only 30, but felt 90 as he saw barely sixteen year-olds in command of the vessel. Those who weren't new were wounded in some way, walking about with a cast, cane, walker or hoverchair. A few pilots nodded to him, many with slings around an arm. Wilde was probably the healthiest here, aside from the rookies.

"Commander on deck," a rookie shouted when he entered the barracks.

"I'm no damned commander. I'm just a pilot like you kids," he said gruffly, throwing someone's stuff from the first bunk and flopping onto it, wincing at his back.

"No one your age is still a pilot. They're all wing commanders or dead," another rookie commented.

"Are you an ace?"

"How many missions have you been on?"

"Were you on Endor," one asked before Wilde sat up.

"Never speak that word in front of me again, rookie. Endor was a nightmare, more than any of you have known in your entire Imperial careers. You're nothings, rookies who haven't been on a flying mission. Pray you don't _ever _have an Endor," he snapped, startling all of them. They quieted down and left him alone as he drifted to sleep once more, hopefully for awhile


End file.
